Chapter 95
The morning was unusually sunny, so I decided to spend my first training session after the holidays outside. Once outside the castle, I took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air and, exhaling thick clouds of steam, broke into a contented smile. I was so sick of London’s dampness and slush that I welcomed the Scottish frost like a child; the weather reminded me of my native Siberia from a past life. For some reason, my friends didn’t share my mood and scowled at the snowy expanses surrounding us. Justin and Ron even began to demonstratively shiver from the cold. Yeah, I believed it.
“Stop pretending, I saw the rune embroidery on your tracksuits,” I turned to the boys. “And it’s not that cold outside.”
– Not very?! – Ron spat and looked at the instantly frozen droplet. – It’s just like the North Pole!
“I hope we’ll run along that cleared path over there?” Tanned Justin nodded toward the path leading to the gamekeeper’s hut. “We’ll have tea with Hagrid there and then back, eh?”
– Stop it! – I barked at these slackers. – Are we having a training session or a Sunday walk?! What are you all whining about?
“We’re still recovering from the holidays,” Finch-Fletchley grumbled, tucking the twins’ hot water bottle amulet into his bosom. “We have every right to!”
“We’re not serious, are we?” Weasley began to stretch his legs. “The usual – to the lake and back?”
“Should we compact the sparring area,” Hermione looked thoughtfully at the meter-high snowdrifts, “or level it with a spell?”
“Do you know any spells like that?” I looked at my friend sarcastically, then paused. “Damn, I really should learn a couple, just in case they come in handy?”
“They’ll definitely come in handy, especially at a high-security summer camp,” her best friend nodded. “We could dig a trench or a hole there. We’ll look in the library today.”
“I know,” our modest brunette joined in the discussion. “I’ll prepare the site.”
– Where from? – I looked at the girl in surprise.
– They taught me. – Elvira smiled sweetly. – If necessary, I can dig a hole, or even a grave.
– What useful spells do you know… – I looked thoughtfully at the novice necromage.
“You’ll teach me later!” Mione’s eyes lit up with a researcher’s fire. “Are they very complicated?”
– Girls! Maybe we should run already?! – Weasley called out to us and washed his face with snow. – Oh! Good! We’re already in the mood!
I nodded and took the lead, dashing toward the meter-deep snowdrift, my friends hurrying after me. Running knee-deep, sometimes waist-deep, in snow isn’t the easiest task, but today the training turned into real fun. We raced headlong, some tripping and falling, burying their heads in the snow, but then getting up and running again. At this pace, five snowmen, laughing loudly, reached the lake, each covered from head to toe in snow.
Having calmed down a bit and pulled ourselves together, we began our exercises, but not before admiring Elvira’s skills. The girl waved her magic wand, and the snow on a ten-by-fifteen-meter patch simply vanished, revealing bare, frozen ground. A couple more waves, and the area became perfectly level, as if paved with asphalt; even the remnants of withered grass had disappeared. Now I understand what my friend was doing over the holidays, if she could dig a grave or prepare a site for a ritual with such ease. What else would a perfectly flat patch of ground without a single blade of grass be needed for?
Naturally, I didn’t voice my conclusions out loud and began the standard warm-up routine. When my muscles were on fire and my clothes were steaming with sweat, we began sparring. The process was standard and well-practiced: first, Mia and I would fight, since we knew each other’s abilities so well we could let loose, and then we would begin training our friends. The boys tried hard, the boys fought like lions, but they still tested the frozen ground for softness dozens of times with their faces. I took no pleasure in this kind of punishment, but it was necessary for their sake. With Elvira, it’s understandable; after being attacked by pureblood rapists, she fights to the last and has no intention of surrendering, but the Weasleys and Finch-Fletchleys are furious when the girl gives them a hard time.
That morning, the guys made me happy: during a training fight, after some agreement, they managed to knock me down and even give me a little kick, and then I decided to fight back. I could have knocked them out right away, but you can’t deprive people of motivation! Speaking of motivation, Ron was bragging about training with his brothers, and Justin was with his coach, and I can say there’s progress, not much, but there is. As for Elvira… I don’t know what she did with Chernaya during the holidays, but at this rate, in a couple of years, we’ll be able to fight her full-on and not hold back, as her growth is obvious. Or rather, my bruised face—I just didn’t expect such agility from our shy girl, but I wasn’t going to be offended. As Sergey said, it’s not me who’s so strong—it’s my friends who are weak, and since I’m starting to take a beating from them, it means the guys are developing, and that’s good. After catching our breath a bit, we healed our injuries and jogged back to the castle.
Someone might ask, “What’s the point of all this?” Why all this jogging, gymnastics, hand-to-hand combat when you have magic and firearms? What for? Just pick up a big bomb or a magic wand, point it at the enemy, and there you have it—a crater, surrounded by tiny, stinking lumps. But these are the opinions of lazy and incompetent people who will die in their first battle. If you take a grenade launcher, for example, you still have to lift it, then carry it to your position, and have sufficient reaction speed to hit the target and knock it down after firing. There’s a reason soldiers are trained to the point of exhaustion and pulse-deprivation, even though each one is armed with a machine gun and supported by long-range artillery. Yes, I’m not a soldier, but a future baroness and head of the Order, but only the Creator knows what kind of trouble I might find myself in.
As for magic, wizards have a whole doctrine of the “volitional triad,” or “Body-Magic-Mind.” That is, a strong physical body contains a vast magical reserve, and a strong mind controls all this power. Remove even one component, and you’re either a powerful psychopath who says, “I take as much as I can and throw it farther, and while it’s flying, I relax,” or a nerdy scientist who only knows theory, or, well, your average wizard from Wizarding Britain. The old saying, “A healthy mind in a healthy body!” fits perfectly into this theory. The stronger the body, the more magic it can channel, and therefore, the more powerful the magic.
All this, admittedly more scientifically, was told to me by Healer Smethwick many years ago when he was treating my emaciated form. I took the Master Healer’s words to heart and began training diligently, and it paid off! I entered Hogwarts much stronger than my peers, both magically and physically, considering that my magic returned at the age of six. Since then, I’ve trained every day, and it’s become such a habit that I simply can’t do otherwise, and I don’t want to. I don’t want to feel weak, so I need to become even stronger, so that even my ill-wishers will fear my name. Incidentally, here’s an example: Scum is a powerful wizard, but he went nuts and became the scarecrow of the Wizarding World. So I don’t forget about Occlumency either and regularly train my sick mind, otherwise I’ll definitely go crazy.
– Turkey! – Our flushed company had just reached the Gryffindor tower, and Ron gave the password.
The fat woman in the portrait yawned loudly, revealing her decay, and the enormous gilded frame slid aside. We exchanged glances and hurried inside. After such an exhausting workout, I, like everyone else, was eager to get under the hot water and then change into clean clothes. The living room was empty, so we scattered to our rooms without any unnecessary witnesses.
I emerged from the shower satisfied, clean, and smelling nice, and, of course, wrapped in a towel like a burqa. Years have passed, and I’m still embarrassed by my scars and mutilated body. Only after waking Lavender and Parvati and escorting them to the shower did I begin to change. As they say, everyone has their weaknesses, and I’m still ashamed of my own body, or rather, the questions surrounding it. While the girls were showering, I calmly changed and was already checking the fit of my undies, but then I noticed a new item of clothing on my friend, and I wasn’t the only one with such a sharp eye.
“Hermione, is this really necessary?” Elvira eyed our curl suspiciously, checking her pistol. “Don’t you think this is a bit much?”
“What do you mean?!” The girl perked up and with her free hand stroked the small light-gray brick tucked into the pocket of her vest. “There’s a maniac wandering around the school, and if…”
– Just try it. – I clicked the bolt of the machine gun and walked up to Hermione. – Are you completely fucking crazy?
– And you? – My friend looked me in the eyes. – Do I need to remind you about one belt?!
– F*ck… – I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. – Are you going to remind me of this for the rest of my life?
– Of course! – Hermione smiled contentedly. – I’m your best friend!
“Girls, can I go a little further away?” Smith threw on her robe and began to back away towards the exit. “Preferably to London.”
“Coward.” Mia patted her pocket with her left hand and pulled out a pair of detonators. “This is in case we find the entrance to the Secret Room. What if we can’t open the door? And I’m not allowed to carry Fatty around with me.”
– Mia…
– Riya… – The girl broke into a sly smile. – I want to be prepared for anything.
“And that’s why you strapped a couple of kilograms of plastic explosives to your chest?” I tilted my head to the side. “And what if some idiot, just for fun, hits you with a spell?”
“There’ll be a big boom,” Hermione shrugged and thought. “And I also stuffed some cold iron balls in there.”
– Mia, – I hugged my friend. – Please, give me the poop, okay?
“Okay…” The girl reluctantly handed me the heavy block, but immediately took a couple of grenades out of her bag. “I feel better this way.”
– Maniac. – I sighed heavily.
While my friends finished getting dressed, I quickly tossed the explosives into my Uber Chest, after which we finally left the bedroom. By this time, the common room was already quite crowded and, naturally, noisy; Gryffindors are notoriously bad at keeping quiet. If one lion cub speaks loudly, the other one starts speaking even louder, making sure to be heard. Descending the stairs, I spotted an empty sofa near the fireplace and headed toward it, the girls following behind.
A loud bang sounded off to the side, followed by hysterical laughter. I turned my head and smiled. In the corner of the living room, his face singed and his hair smoking, stood a bewildered Lee Jordan, a small, smoking box lying at his feet. Judging by the giggles of the girls from our Quidditch team, this was their prank, and it had worked perfectly. Jordan blinked a couple of times, then pulled out his wand and chased the girls, spraying them with water.
I was distracted from contemplating this spectacle by a bright blue beam of a spell flying straight at my face. At the very last moment, I managed to dodge it and, activating all my shields, pointed my concentrator and pistol toward the stairs leading to the boys’ dormitories. There, on the steps, stood Potter, grinning wickedly, twirling his wand in his hands. The bastard didn’t even bother trying to hide or conceal himself.
– Potter, are you completely out of your mind? – I glared at my brother. – Are your teeth bothering you?
“It was just a prank,” Harry said, putting on his most innocent expression. “You’re going to attack me because of a harmless, joke spell? Besides, I didn’t hit you, I hit your tame…” The Chosen One glanced at Wood, who was standing nearby. “The little dog.”
Well, yes, everyone at the faculty knows that the captain of our Quidditch team is dating the daughter of mundanes, and he has a thing about that word. Anna Carter is the only Muggle-born student in her sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts, and it’s all thanks to her boyfriend’s family. Wood’s parents bought out her contract and allowed her to finish school, in exchange for her agreeing to become their son’s concubine, or perhaps his beloved second wife—it’s up to each individual to decide. Oliver is a pureblood, and from a fairly old and wealthy family at that, so he’s simply obliged to marry a fellow pureblood witch. Lavender said that such things are not uncommon in that environment, but usually concubines are sterilized to prevent them from producing bastards, so to speak.
But that’s not the point now. Still keeping my brother in my sights, I slowly turned to face my friends. Mia held her wand and scowled at Potter, while Elvira, with both hands, tugged at the pig snout that her cute nose had transformed into. The spell had indeed turned out to be a joke and harmless; it’s not customary to hit someone in the face for that.
– Finite! – Smith finally managed to get out her wand and get rid of the new decoration. – Finite Incantatem!
“It won’t work.” Potter laughed cheerfully, and several people joined him. “You need to know the counter-spell for that.”
“And you, of course, won’t tell him.” I tilted my head to the side and looked into his mischievous green eyes.
– Of course not! – Harry’s minions approached from behind. – Moreover, it didn’t work; I don’t see any changes on Smith’s face!
The students surrounding us started laughing loudly, and some of the more uncultured ones started grunting or making faces. “Well, Potter, well, you little bastard…” It seems my brother has had enough of being beaten and has decided to change tactics. Well, I have a sense of humor too.
“Penis-Nasus.” A pale blue beam shot from the tip of my concentrator and hit the chosen one’s chest.
For a few seconds, nothing happened, and then his nose transformed into a massive male reproductive organ, for some reason black. Potter blinked a couple of times in surprise, then touched his new nose, lifting the skin and exposing the head. This was enough for everyone in the living room to instantly forget about Elvira’s pig’s snout and start laughing loudly at the national hero. Even his friends couldn’t help but turn away, shaking with silent laughter. Harry immediately tried to get rid of his new organ with Finite, which (of course) didn’t work; you need to know a counter-curse for that too. Amidst the loud laughter of those around him, the idiot continued to tug at the member growing on his face, and it seemed to be starting to get hard.
Now even I lost it, and I burst into loud laughter, just like every other Gryffindor student. Potter blushed under the attention and, covering his panicked face with his school bag, silently ran out of the common room. But the crowd showed no sign of calming down; many were clutching their stomachs, and a couple of first-years were even rolling on the floor. I think I now know how to quickly and reliably put a spoiled brat in his place.
Soon, Ron and Justin approached us, bringing Percy with them. Our brave prefect waved his concentrator and restored Elvira’s nose to its former shape, then suggested books that described similar joke spells. After thanking the eldest Weasley, we all went to breakfast; after morning practice, I didn’t want to eat, I wanted to devour.
– Hellsing, wait! – Angelina Johnson caught up with us as we left the living room.
– Good morning, Johnson. – I let my friends go ahead. – Did something happen?
– Something like that. – The senior student came close to me. – I have a proposal.
– What? – I tilted my head to the side.
“The spell you used on Potter.” The girl chuckled. “I’ve never seen it before, can you teach me?”
“I can.” I shrugged. “And what in return? Do you know anything like that?”
– Of course! – Johnson lifted her nose proudly. – Even several.
“That’s what we agreed on.” I shrugged again. “Where and when? It’s not complicated, I think a couple of hours will be enough.”
“Let’s do it this afternoon, there’s an empty classroom nearby.” Angelina smiled expectantly. “I’ll teach you a thing or two, too.”
“Okay, see you at lunch.” I nodded and hurried to my friends.
“Jordan! I’ve made all the arrangements!” I heard the senior’s loud voice as I entered the narrow passage. “We’ll experiment after dinner today!”
I almost tripped over myself at that, and my wild imagination immediately vividly imagined the future experiment. Well, fuck, this is already a real perversion, but what if the penis actually gets hard?! Br… Okay, I’m a decent girl, so let’s not think about any nasty things. My friends were waiting for me in the hallway, and their company helped me get these perverted and vulgar thoughts out of my head. And then Ron remembered Potter’s face, which set off a chain reaction, and we went to breakfast, laughing heartily.
***
The second semester began on Wednesday, and I hadn’t had time to get particularly tired in those three days, and the teachers weren’t rushing to bombard us with homework. So I decided to make good use of my Saturday morning and settled into my suitcase, studying the books I’d brought from home. Most of them were on Dark or forbidden magic, meaning they weren’t worth taking out of the safety of the bunker. They wouldn’t send you to Azkaban, of course, but possessing such filth could get you expelled, so why risk it? Mia shared my thoughts completely and joined me in searching for something similar.
The thing is, Potter turned out to be very touchy and decided to get revenge on me for that embarrassing incident in the common room. My brother would cast some kind of prank spell at me at every opportunity. Since they’re harmless, protective artifacts don’t react to them, and keeping Protego in constant use is physically impossible. Thanks to his efforts, I had donkey ears for breakfast on Thursday and a long beak on Friday. I responded in kind—thankfully, there are many such spells and they’re fairly easy—but this kind of confrontation was starting to tire me. So I decided to curse him with something tricky and memorable, something that would leave a lasting impression.
I lazily leaned back on the soft sofa and closed the ancient tome on ritual magic. I don’t know where my ancestors got that book, but it was written by a crazy bastard. Every single, fucking ritual in that book required the obligatory sacrifice of a baby or the rape of a virgin followed by her murder. Although… Maybe that’s why it ended up in our family library: my ancestors (yes, I consider the Hellsings my ancestors) simply exterminated that wacky family of wizards and took everything of value from their family estate.
That must have been true, considering my family has been serving the Crown for nearly a thousand years, and the rituals described were intended solely to cause harm to their fellow man. This book was yet another reminder that wizards have overactive imaginations and sick minds. Could an ordinary person possibly have conceived and planned such a complex ritual involving human sacrifice, the purpose of which was (ba-da!) to kill dogs in a neighboring village? Seriously! One old wizard was so fed up with the barking of his neighbors’ dogs that he spent years developing a complex ritual and slaughtered two dozen people!
Logic, huh?! Wouldn’t it have been easier to cast a Muggle-repelling charm on myself and go slaughter those noisy mongrels? But we’re wizards, we don’t take the easy way out. Instead of wasting one evening, we’ll spend a couple of years on complex numerological and astronomical calculations, and then experiment on passing travelers, since we can’t touch the locals—they’ll notice. Such an undertaking may seem idiotic, but if you remember that wizards don’t consider mundane creatures human, everything falls into place. That’s exactly how magical science works; by the way, mundane creatures have also experimented on animals: rats, dogs, monkeys. So it all makes sense. Wait, I’m starting to contradict myself, I think that’s enough “interesting” reading for today.
– There’s nothing here either. – I put the book down on the table and looked at my friend. – And how are you doing?
“I’ve found a dozen ways to slowly and painfully kill Potter, but as for something relatively harmless…” The girl looked up from the thick, ancient tome. “Maybe we should just punch him in the face?”
“It’s no use, you know, he’s stupid and stubborn.” I pulled over the teapot and a couple of cups. “We need something that will make him look like a laughing stock and leave a lasting impression. I’m already tired of this game.”
“And Johnson’s spell?” Mia levitated a plate of cookies onto the table. “The rooster’s crest and clucking looked cheerful.”
“But the effect only lasted fifteen minutes.” I filled the cups with the hot, aromatic drink. “We need something special, you know.”
“Then we’ll look.” Her friend accepted the cup and looked at her watch. “But tomorrow, lunch is in half an hour, then off to the dueling club.”
“We’ll make it.” I twirled the chocolate chip cookie in my hands and popped it into my mouth. “The main thing now is not to overeat.”
“I wonder what Lockhart will teach us?” The girl followed my example.
“Probably the basics,” I took a sip of tea and closed my eyes in pleasure. “It wasn’t for nothing that he divided the students into two groups.”
“It’s just logical.” Mia popped a chocolate candy into her mouth. “On Saturdays, he’ll work with the students up to their fourth year, and on Sundays, the upperclassmen will train. That way, their knowledge and strength levels will be roughly equal.”
“Probably.” I nodded lazily in response. “I wonder what the seniors will choose, the dueling club or Hogsmeade?”
“Hogsmeade,” her friend chuckled cheerfully. “I think the dueling hall will be empty on Sundays.”
“Muggle-borns don’t go to the wizarding village.” “I hate that word, but sometimes I have to use it.” “So Lockhart will have someone to study with.”
After chatting a bit more, we left the cozy bunker and went down to the living room, where our friends were playing a modernized version of Monopoly at a far table. Goldstein realized the game was popular with students, so with the help of the twins, he animated the pieces and the board, and even replaced the paper money with shiny coins. The principle and rules of the game remained the same, but it became much more fun and engaging for magicians, which boosted sales.
When we arrived, Ron was just admiring a tall pyramid of coins and a stack of real estate cards with a satisfied smile. Ginger was playing the board game as well as chess. The others weren’t doing so well, and it was already clear that Weasley had emerged victorious. We waited for the boys to finish their game, and then, in a friendly group, we headed into the Great Hall.
There were practically no older students at lunch—everyone had gone to Hogsmeade straight after breakfast. I took my seat and nodded to a sullen Percy, who was staring at a sad Penelope. The prefect sighed and nodded back, then began languidly picking at his plate with his fork. Apparently, the prefects would be keeping an eye on the dueling club, otherwise this couple would have been sitting in one of the magical village’s cafes by now. Feeling a little sorry for the guy and his ruined date, I reached for the cutlets and salad, my stomach clamoring for fuel.
– Has everyone eaten? – I was finishing my juice when the headman stood up from the table. – Everyone who wants to participate in the dueling club – follow me! Quickly!
– Percy, I haven’t finished dessert yet! – Ron exclaimed. – Wait a bit.
“What, Weasley, can’t get used to the abundance of food at the table?” My brother spoke from the other end of the table. “Well, it’s understandable, with so many hungry mouths to feed…”
“Potter! One more word…” The Head Boy glared at the chosen one. “And instead of the dueling club, you’ll be heading to your dorm!”
– Did I say that out loud? – Potter exchanged a surprised glance with Longbottom, who was devouring a huge piece of cake, and chuckled. – That’s it, I’ll keep quiet. I just want to crush someone on the dueling platform. – And a mocking look in my direction.
– Has Potty learned to hold a magic wand? – I copied Diana’s manner. – We need to organize a party for this occasion!
“Laugh while you can, Hellsing,” Harry said, dramatically flexing his hands. “I learned to duel with my godfather, and he’s a master of combat magic, so…”
“Stop chatting!” Percy barked at the students. “Everyone follow me! Anyone who’s late or falls behind will stay in the hallway.”
Percy headed for the exit, followed by a crowd of noisy, cheerful Gryffindors. We slowed slightly at the gates to let the Slytherins, who were moving more organized and slightly faster, go ahead. Ten minutes later, we found ourselves on the fourth floor, admiring the portraits of Galizdra Krivaya and Marina Kosaya. These worthy witches, in every respect, were loudly and rather sarcastically discussing the students passing by.
“And this one looks like a dockside whore!” The ugly woman in the portrait pointed at Gemma Farley, the Slytherin prefect. “Look at her hands, they’re only fit for a dirty dick!”
“And look at her mouth!” her partner chimed in. “You can tell she’s a worker.”
The girl paid no attention to the painted sluts and watched her students with a stony face. When the last Slytherin entered the dueling room, she nodded to Percy and walked proudly past the portraits.
“We’re going in one at a time,” Percy began giving instructions. “Our sector is to the left of the Slytherins, forward.”
The students hurried after the Slytherins, the red-haired prefect making sure no one pushed or messed around. The boy kept an eye on the corridor, and when the ravens appeared, he broke into a satisfied smile.
– Where did all these mudbloods come from? – Marina Kosaya exclaimed.
“I hope their numbers decrease today!” her friend from the neighboring portrait chimed in. “What times are these?!”
“Why are you grinning, blessed one?” Khabalka turned to Colin, who had stopped in front of the portrait. “And don’t point that thing at me!”
The young paparazzo ignored her screams and took a few photos, then, accompanied by a string of curses, ran off into the dueling room. These old fools ignored Hermione and me, while Lavender earned the title of flighty and easily accessible because of the pink bow in her hair. Someday these sluts will get their asses kicked, and some student will burn their portraits, frames and all—they’re wooden, after all.
The dueling hall was bright and spacious, with many students gaping at the magnificent furnishings. I’d been here many times before, so I quickly took a seat in the Gryffindor section. Hermione sat to my left, and Elvira to my right. Lavender and Parvati settled in next to our shy companion, their chatty eyes almost constantly and lustfully watching Lockhart as he paced the stone platform.
Today, our Defense of the Dark Arts teacher had abandoned his habit of dressing in expensive, luxurious robes, looking like a seasoned monster hunter: dragonhide-trimmed trousers tucked into high black boots, a leather breastplate with metal plates, and a cowboy hat crowning the entire ensemble. Professor Flitwick stood discreetly beside him, dressed in his usual robes, peering inquisitively at the ever-increasing number of students. And at the foot of the dueling platform, Madam Pomfrey sat on a wooden chair, examining the contents of her bag. When all the students had settled in and the prefects had taken their places in the aisles, Lockhart waved his wand and the heavy doors slammed shut.
“Welcome to the dueling club, friends!” The writer amplified his voice with magic and spoke. “We’re so glad to see you! I’d like to start by saying that during our classes, you won’t be able to settle personal scores with your enemies, as we won’t be fighting here, but learning! And don’t sigh like that! I haven’t gathered you here for fun, but so you can learn to protect yourselves and your loved ones!”
“There won’t be any duels?!” Potter let out a disappointed cry. “This is a dueling club!”
“There will be, Mr. Potter, but under the supervision of teachers and only for training purposes,” Flitwick replied. “First, you will practice the spells on dummies, and then you will practice with your friends.”
I just now noticed that the weapons racks I remembered are gone, replaced by mannequins. Wooden dummies lined the entire perimeter of the arena, and a huge chalkboard hung above the platform. So, this isn’t a gladiator arena, but a self-defense club. I like it, although I seriously doubt I’ll learn anything new here.
“Thank you, Filius.” Lockhart nodded to the half-goblin with a smile. “Since we’re talking about duels, perhaps we could put on a little demonstration? Show the students what a mock duel between two professionals looks like?”
“I have no objections,” Professor Flitwick nodded and quickly walked to the edge of the platform. “Gilderoy, I’m ready.”
The writer waved his wand, covering the arena with a powerful protective dome, and then strode into his place. The wizards stood motionless for a few seconds, then exploded into streams of multicolored beams and pulsars. Many watched the duel of professionals, mesmerized, and I was among them. The speed and ease with which they cast their spells was simply astounding. Yes, most of the spells they used were playful or harmless, but their number was impressive, and when two spells met in midair and exploded in streams of sparks… The spectacle was truly magnificent and quite motivating.
The professors dueled for about five minutes, demonstrating their dexterity and wand control. Towards the end of the duel, a bright red bolt flew at Lockhart, who immediately took cover behind the transparent dome of the Protego, followed by a powerful explosion from Bombard’s shield. The blond grinned and fired a dozen spells at the half-goblin, some of which he dodged and the rest landed on the tip of his wand. Flitwick bared his teeth and increased his attacks. At one point, Lockhart either didn’t have time to erect his shield, or his construct simply collapsed, but a transparent bolt struck him in the chest, knocking him back a couple of meters and leaving him sprawled on the stone platform.
“I’m fine!” Lockhart waved his right hand, then nimbly jumped to his feet and bowed to Flitwick. “Thank you, Filius, you caught me cleverly.”
“I think we can end here.” The Charms Professor bowed in response. “Agreed?”
“Absolutely!” Lockhart broke into a stupid grin. “I wouldn’t want to fight you in earnest, much less force Headmaster Dumbledore to find a new Charms teacher, where else would he find such a professional as you?”
“Of course, of course.” The half-goblin nodded and looked at the scribbler with a mocking gaze. “Will you or I begin the lecture on safety precautions and rules of conduct?”
“Filius, why so suddenly?” The Defense against the Dark Arts professor surveyed the assembled students. “Perhaps we could start with a couple of duels between the students? To gauge their approximate level, so to speak.”
“That’s possible.” The half-goblin waved his hand and began to descend from the platform. “This is your circle, go for it.”
“Thank you.” Lockhart nodded and addressed the audience. “Anyone willing to fight?”
A forest of hands rose in the stands, as the teachers from my past life would have said. There were indeed many volunteers, but most of them were first-years, and Lockhart wanted a show, so he invited the fourth-years to the platform first. A tall, stocky boy from Hufflepuff and a black-haired fourth-year from Slytherin, who turned out to be Vega Black. At the sight of the frail girl, the big man swallowed and involuntarily took a step back, and the Slytherin only smiled modestly in response.
“I’ll bet you five Galleons on Black,” Weasley’s voice came from behind him. “She’ll smear that oaf with a fine line, that’s for sure.”
“I agree,” Justin replied.
While the boys whispered, Lockhart activated the protective dome and began the countdown. The duel itself was fleeting: after the command to begin, Vega unleashed a clever combination, and the boy was thrown off the platform, fortunately, the soft sand cushioned his fall.
– Um… – The blond wizard scratched the back of his head and looked the Slytherin girl over. – Thank you, Miss Black, you may take your seat. Madam Pomfrey, how is Mr. Tugwood?
“The bones are intact, and the bruises will heal on their own,” the school medic replied when she had finished examining the injured man. “You may continue.”
“Hmm… Maybe we should start with someone younger,” Lockhart muttered thoughtfully and looked at our sector. “Miss Hellsing, please.”
– Well… – I stood up silently and moved towards the platform.
“And your opponent will be…” The Wizard looked thoughtfully at the stands. “Mr. Nott, please!”
I was a little faster and reached the rectangular stone platform first, so I could admire the gloating grin on the Slytherin’s face; he was clearly up to something. Lockhart patted him on the shoulder and escorted him to another platform, then deftly jumped down onto the white sand and activated the protective dome.
“Bow!” the professor commanded, and I bowed politely to Nott, earning a disdainful look in return. “Three… Two… One! Fight!”
Obeying the reflexes I’d been ingrained in my head, I immediately ducked and, somersaulting forward, pointed my concentrator at the Slytherin, who stood there like a statue. Nott began to suspect something and even pointed his wand at me, but it was too late. My grandfather’s favorite combination, the one he’d made me practice until it was automatic, was already flying at the pureblood brat. Rictusempra, or tickling charm, activated the boy’s protective artifacts, a powerful stupefy overloaded them, and the bone-crushing charm encountered no obstacles in its path.
The spell struck Nott in the chest, and a sickening crunch of breaking bones was heard. The boy’s school clothes remained undamaged, but began to bulge from the crushed ribs that had pierced his skin and protruded. The Slytherin jerked and vomited blood, and then his body fell like a broken doll into a crimson puddle.
Shit, I think I overdid it again, judging by the shocked look on the blond writer’s face and the panic on Madam Pomfrey’s as she rushed to the dying student. After all, Lockhart himself is to blame; he didn’t say a word about the rules, so I acted out of habit. It’s a poor excuse, of course, but I still hope I don’t get expelled.
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